


Dorothy Looks Pissed Off

by AnAngryRat



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Fluff, M/M, fluff?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-22
Updated: 2014-04-22
Packaged: 2018-01-20 10:25:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,231
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1507112
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnAngryRat/pseuds/AnAngryRat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Derek nearly sits on Stiles. In none of the ways they expected.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dorothy Looks Pissed Off

**Author's Note:**

> unbeta'd  
> So...It's sloppy. :D

There are only two instances in which Derek had been caught off guard enough to jump since the fire, once when the alphas broke into his loft and the other when a kanima dumped him in a swimming pool with a sixteen year old. Today would mark the third time he has actually jumped out of pure shock, brought upon what was once probably the noisiest person Derek knew. He was making no movements, or noise, and it was very, very disturbing especially when he caught Derek with a giant bowl of Cheerios about to sit on him.

“Hi, Derek,” Stiles mumbles lazily.

“What are you doing here,” Derek asks very cautiously backing up slowly. He sets his cereal down on the coffee table and starts to reassess his situation. Stiles is on his couch, with no smell, no heart beat and almost no color in his eyes or body, in fact he looks almost like a statue. It’s freaking Derek out. His constant noise was a comfort though he would never admit it. It was all wrong it looked like Stiles but was not him.

“Witch…took my… heart… replaced… it… with… metal ring… was… going… to… wake… you… up… but…” he shrugs although slowly but still very Stiles like that Derek lets out a relieved breath.

“Did…I…go…to…the…right…person?” he asks his face crumpling in frustration. He wasn’t thrilled by the new ability to take five million years to finish a sentence.

Derek doesn’t even answer, just picks Stiles up off the couch and drags him to the car. Stiles doesn’t say a word just stares off glassily into the distance not even trying to move his feet. When they get into the car Derek is about fifteen minutes away from Lydia when Stiles speaks again. Derek practically sighs with relief. The silence had been killing him. Stiles might not have even been breathing during that long stretch of time.

“Need…to…remember….” Stiles starts his hands pressing against his temples like he could squeeze the information out.

”Well we are headed to Lydia’s and she’ll tell us what to do,” Derek says wondering if he should speak slowly. Stiles shakes his head, and Derek does NOT hear squeaking in movement.

“No… Lydia… Brain… Taken… Dick… Had… Sick… Sense of… Humor,” Stiles bites out. Derek’s lip twitch almost in a smile Stiles on the other hand gives him a full on grin, cheeks crinkling like tin foil.

“She… Safe… Scott… Not so… Much,” Stiles continues his eyes squeezed shut in concentration. Derek waits for him to tell him why pulling off to the side of the road. Stiles stays silent and still a little to long for Derek’s calm, making reach over and smack him for some kind of response. Instead he nearly breaks his hand because Stiles is fucking hard as solid granite and gets a small creaking ‘shhh’ from him for his efforts.

“Hard… Remember… Where… Scott is… But… Scott… Knows… Where Witch… Hideout,” he squeaks. Derek has no idea what he means but assumes that his next task is to find Scott, due to the repeating of the word. Derek is out of the car when he hears a creaky old laugh. Stiles is struggling to sit up and instead sort of slinks farther into his seat. “Dorothy,” he croaks, “finding… His… Minions… Out… Of… Order…Shame…On…You.” Derek flips him off and trudges into the in search of Scott a metallic laugh ringing behind him.

*

Derek tries to follow Scott’s scent or what he thinks is Scott’s scent because it smells more like dog and less like Scott, which is odd. He hears a rustling sound and waits for it to come to him, not even stumbling when a giant golden retriever attempts to tackle him.

"Scott," Derek says dryly. Scott flashes red eyes at him then sniffs his crotch. Derek scratches behind the dog’s ears and heads back towards the car with Scott bouncing behind him.

They find Stiles exactly where Derek left him, the same silly grin plastered to his face. Derek is pleasantly disturbed by the image. He lets Scott into the back seat and then settles behind the wheel when he sees Lydia wandering naked in the middle the road playing on the yellow line.  
Derek sticks his body half way out of the window.

"Lydia?"

She looks up her eyes bugging with a giant grin plastered to her face. “Derek! Darling, what are you doing here? I haven’t seen you in ages.”  
Derek blinks and turns to look at Stiles who has conveniently moved his head down to avoid eye contact his face having finally lost its silly grin. He sighs deeply then turns to look at Lydia who has started to dance.

"Lydia, would you like to meet my dog," Derek asks opening the back door so she can see the still stupidly happy dog-Scott. He was just reviewing how wrong that sentence would have seemed when Stiles honks out a laugh. He apparently caught it before Derek did. Lydia ran over waving her arms.

"Yes," she squeals enthusiastically, climbing into the car and slamming the door, petting Scott roughly. Poor Scott at having his ears twisted so deviously. Derek winces in sympathy, before letting out huff and heading off towards Deaton’s.

*

It takes fifteen minutes to convince Lydia that the ground was not lava, a well-placed shove for Scott to tumble out of the car, and ten seconds before he loses all his patience and just carries Stiles in to the vet’s office.

Deaton greets them with the usual amount of ambiguity.

"What do I owe the honor," he asks a smirk flickering across his face. Derek rolls his eyes and pointedly drops Stiles on the floor.

"Heeey," he croaks slowly moving to get up, "It’s…Scott’s…Fault."

The dog turns and growls at him eyes flashing, Lydia squeals hugging him around the neck and Derek rolls his eyes so hard it’s amazing the world didn’t just roll with him.

"But…" he continues finally half way up to the standing position, every movement sounding like the rusty creaking of an old broken down house, "you…were…the…one…who…said…to…go."

Scott looks offended even as a dog and Deaton goes to break the tension, “What happened?”

"It’s…kin—"

"These three went into the woods" Derek says cutting off Stiles, "and pissed off a witch while conveniently forgetting that this one," he points at Stiles, "is still cursed with bad luck."

 

"I’ve…got…like…a…week…left," Stiles says by way of excuse. Both Deaton and Derek ignore him.

"Well I say take Scott with you and see if you can find her," Deaton suggests. Derek barely refrains from rolling his eyes before heading out whistling for Scott to follow him. Scott growls at him afterwards not pleased to be at his beck and call. They leave the vet’s with the disdained cries of Lydia who had lost her puppy.

*

Scott leads Derek to a little hut covered in brush like from an old folk’s tale. Derek just lets out a sigh and walks up even while Scott is growling eyes glowing red and knocks politely. An old man opens the door and peers at Derek through thick glasses. He shakes and smiles a toothy grin up at him.

"What can I do for you, pup?" he says his voice a steady stream of wise and whimsical.

"My friends came here last night, and I think you cursed them, if you would be so kind as to remove those curses," Derek asks politely. Scott turns his head to the side and stares up at him confused as hell. Derek ignores him. It’s common knowledge to be polite to the elderly.  
The old man blinks up at him then blinks at Scott who is now glaring profusely at Derek as best as he can as a dog, He laughs and snaps his fingers as if remembering something. He leans away from Derek and around the door jam and yells inside the small hut, “You LYING BASTERD!!!”

There’s a low chuckle in response that Derek finds eerily familiar. The man looks back at him pinching his nose like he’s trying to hold back a laugh.

"Right, right, my bad I don’t even know what got me so angry," he says waving his hand as if to remove all the bad air.

"Probably, sir, because one of them was cursed with seven weeks of bad luck," Derek explains. The old man nods in understanding.

"Been under one of those, tends to bring out the worst in people," he laughs brightly and claps his hands together, "let’s see how to fix this."

The old man hobbles into the house rummages around for a good minute or so, before returning with a stick. Scott catches sight of the stick and runs behind Derek tail between his legs. Derek rolls his eyes heaven wards and sighs. The old wizard just laughs hysterically before leaning over and smacking Scott hard between the eyes. In a puff of smoke Scott goes from dog to naked human clutching Derek’s jacket for dear life. Derek snarls and Scott lets go and backs away slowly.

"Sorry, dude," he says not looking in the eye. The old man is on the ground rolling in laughter. Derek waits politely for the man to recover while Scott stands off awkwardly to the side holding his junk. The old man takes deep breathes wiping his eyes and hands Derek the stick. Derek takes this and thinks for a moment.

"Will this work for the one whose heart you replaced," Derek asks. The old man pauses for a moment thinking.

"Not really, but I’m sure if you kiss him it’ll work," he says with a familiar smirk and wink. Derek eyebrows reach his hairline as the cogs finally fall into place. Then the hut and the man are gone in a blink. He stands there dumbstruck looking at the stick in his hand.

"What. A. Weirdo," Scott says. Derek huffs a smile playing at his lips and starts trekking back to his car.

"Are you gonna give me any clothes?"

*

Scott jumps out of the car looking like he’s wearing his older brother’s clothes, which shouldn’t be as endearing as it is to Derek.  
Derek heads inside walks up to Lydia who is probably holding the largest cat in the world who gives the least amounts of fucks in the world. He quickly observes that Deaton didn’t give her any clothes. They meet eyes from where Deaton’s at his desk. He just shrugs and returns to his work. Derek rolls his eyes, whacks her on the head with the stick before placing it in his pocket.

"Ow," she says rubbing her head. Her eyes widen exponentially and her entire body flushes as she pulls the cat closer trying to cover herself up.

"Oh my fucking GAAAAAAAAWWWWWDDD," she groans. Scott comes over and hugs her through that internal mental breakdown. Derek leaves to find Stiles who’s leaning against the wall in the corner feet plucked up awkwardly as if he was placed against the wall instead of actually leaning. His eyes are closed and Derek can’t hear him breathing or the creaking he’s heard over the last few hours.

"Stiles?" Derek walks up closer and cups his face trying to feel anything but cold metal. There’s not even a flicker of life. Derek takes a deep breath and steels himself and places a quick dry kiss on Stiles steel blue lips. He pulls back and waits patiently. It takes to a full count of sixty seconds before, Stiles eyes flutter open and he takes a deep panting breathe.

"Holy fucking shit this hurts," he says bowling over in pain as all his limbs suddenly loosen up and begin to flow with oxygen, the flesh color returning to his previously steely gray skin.

"Good maybe you won’t be an idiot again," Derek says, holding him up.

"I told you it was Scott’s fault, he saw the little hut and said he got a bad feeling and dragged me and Lydia there," Stiles says panting. Derek snorts. Stiles looks at him raised eyebrow before moving on.

"God, I miss talking and breathing and moving, just being alive."

"Yeah?"

Stiles squints up at him before flashing a bright smile.

"Yeah," he says dragging Derek into a kiss, "Better enjoy life before I die."

"Probably won’t happen for a very, very, long time," Derek says between kisses.

"What makes you say that?"

Derek kisses back deciding to keep that a secret at least. They get to full on making out on the floor of the of the vet clinic when there’s a disgruntled cough behind them.

They look up to Lydia wearing Scott’s shirt hands on her hips eyes back to the cold calculating ways they usually are.

"As romantic as this is, I and Scott would love to go home and bask in embarrassment and ice cream for the next few days," she says. Derek stands up and rearranges himself before helping Stiles up.

Stiles smirks. “Don’t worry, we’ll get you home in a jiffy, little lady all Dorothy here has to do is click his heels three times.”  
Derek smacks him outside his head on the way out of the clinic.


End file.
